Chapter 533 - Junk Dealer (2)
Memories driven into the head like a nail struck by a hammer are not easily removed.
One may forget them in daily life, yet they are prone to resurface at unexpected moments, like an unpleasant nightmare once dreamt.
When stimulated, as now, the phenomenon grows only stronger.
"Puhhhhhh!!!"
"Kyaaak!"
The liquor spewed from his mouth soaked the table and the chair opposite. The side dishes were ruined, no longer edible.
"...I, I'll be going."
"M, me too."
The two women crept away, leaving the ruined drinking table. As soon as the mood shattered, fleeting affection cooled in an instant.
It was the common, frivolous youth.
Regardless, Romer Hansnia was desperately trying to stop coughing and raise his head.
"Cough, cough!! What the hell, y… cough! Y, you, why are you here…?!"
Orange eyes, pupils dilated as if torn wide open, disheveled hair flowing with luster, white and black strands intermingled.
Drops of liquor fell from the corner of his mouth, yet there was no time to wipe them away. All he could do was wrestle down the shock of an utterly unexpected reunion.
Verden spoke.
"I came for personal business. Related to that, I had something to ask you, that's why I came here. It's a simple matter, I didn't intend to interrupt, but… aren't you overreacting?"
"O, of course I'm reacting like this, isn't that normal?"
Romer rubbed his neck and downed the rest of the liquor in his glass, barely regaining composure as his eyes flicked about.
'Wow, his robe changed from platinum to black. And he's wearing those pitch-black gauntlets he never had before. Cool… no. More importantly. Why is the king of the underworld visiting the Confederation of Iderat?'
Could it be, to participate in the Union Tournament?
Hm, no, that can't be.
The matches in the Mirediol region ended today, it would be procedurally impossible to join now.
Then what?
All Romer knew was what he gleaned from the newspapers he regularly read.
That the Shinseong of the Eastern Continent, as the de facto ruler of the ownerless land in the north, was wholly devoted to expanding power.
So, what else could he do?
If he didn't know, he had to ask.
"So why did you come looking for me…?"
"I heard there's a junk dealer in Mirediol. Do you know exactly where?"
Verden had only planned to ask Romer this single question and then leave. His reason for coming to the Confederation was solely the Golden Relic Bone.
But.
"Junk dealer? Ah, you mean old man 'Reginalf'? Got some relic to sell him?"
Romer called the junk dealer's name with a casual, almost affectionate tone. That alone changed the course of the conversation.
"Romer, have you eaten?"
"Well, I just had some liquor and side dishes───"
"My treat, let's go out."
And so, the Lone Wolf found himself drafted into the company of a Transcendent.
***
Romer, without protest, became part of Verden's party and entered the most expensive, luxurious restaurant in Mirediol.
Though his little tale with the charming women had ended abruptly, he felt no particular dissatisfaction.
Once, he had rashly challenged Verden, wishing to earn the cool epithet 'Ruler of Roafra', only to be crushed flat and knocked out cold. A bitter experience.
Once, he had witnessed in horror the subjugation of the Bone-Relic Dragon that had attacked to destroy Sacrid, a city of the Beldirn Republic.
Once, he had, through barter, obtained a stylish and practical artifact he adored, [Floated]. A delightful experience.
These experiences tangled together into natural compliance. Or in other words, intimidation.
He was scared.
Slice, slice.
Romer cut a thick piece of rare steak, chewed it down, and twirled his wine glass idly before taking a sip.
It was instinctive posturing, unwilling to admit his fear.
"But if you just want the junk dealer's location, couldn't you have asked someone else? You could've found out with a little asking around."
"I was going to, but the moment I arrived in the city, your name came up."
Since he was in foreign lands, asking someone familiar was the efficient, rational choice.
It not only shortened the time, but ensured the accuracy of information.
And if that someone had a personal connection with the junk dealer, like Romer, all the better.
"Tsk."
Romer smacked his lips, having nothing to retort, and changed the subject.
"But if you're planning a fair deal with Reginalf, that swindler old man, I'd say stop now. You do know how he handles relics, right?"
"I've heard he cheats buyers, buys cheap, and sells at outrageous prices."
"That's the rumor, and it's true. When you actually see the prices, they're absurd. His tricks are so slick, I got swindled by him more than once."
Though Verden hadn't asked, Romer readily spilled stories of his past.
He told how, during his travels, he'd found a relic and tried to sell it, only for the junk dealer to talk him down and manipulate the appraisal.
"At the time, the rumors about junk dealers weren't widely spread, so I had no choice. I thought he was a fine business partner, and ended up bringing every relic I got afterward to him… whenever I think back to that time…!"
"Yet you sound like you're on good terms now."
"Well, we've sort of built a business partnership. Since I trade with him far more often than anyone else, one day he said it himself. He wouldn't trick me anymore, he'd pay fair prices, so long as I brought him every relic I found."
Romer shrugged.
"At first I told him to shove it… but eventually I accepted. I tried using other routes, but the fees were worse, and selling relics took too long. Luckily, nothing's happened to break our relationship yet."
"Anyone listening would think you're part of a relic exploration team."
"Haha, I'm just lucky when it comes to that stuff. Not that I have any interest in becoming one."
The cube [Arkeo] currently in Verden's possession was one of the sealed-type artifacts Romer had discovered in some ruin.
That he had stumbled upon an unclaimed artifact during his travels was proof enough of his extraordinary fortune.
"Well, anyway. I don't know what deal you want with him, but since you bought me dinner, I'll do you the favor of introducing you. Thanks to the [Floated] you gave me, I even made it safely into the Union Tournament finals today… besides, we both nearly died to that Bone-Relic Dragon, didn't we?"
When Verden had been struck down by the dragon's claws, gravely wounded, Romer and Leira had guarded his unconscious body.
In the process Romer's shoulder had been pierced through, and he had learned, in agonizing clarity, what it meant to nearly die.
"I'd appreciate that."
"Then let's go now. I don't want to be stuck until tomorrow."
Romer cleared his plate, put on the coat from the hanger.
As Verden paid the bill, he stepped out into the winter winds, leading the way.
[Lone Wolf, Romer Hansnia. Obsessed with appearances. Confirmed rookie among rookies.]
"He does have a bit of vanity."
Verden answered Alpha's current hobby of profiling people as they walked.
They passed through Mirediol's back alleys, one after another, reaching a district almost devoid of people. There, they entered the most dilapidated building.
Creak, squeak.
Romer grabbed a doorknob on the floor and pulled, the hinges screaming. Beneath the building lay a spacious underground chamber, like a sewer converted into a den.
"Old man! Where's that swindler hiding!"
He shouted down the stairs, his voice echoing like in a cavern.
The reply came at once.
"What business at this hour? I thought you'd be rolling around with a woman after the Union Tournament. What, did you suddenly come across a relic to sell?"
From amid the piles of junk filling the underground, someone squeezed out. A lantern with a mana stone glowed, casting light over Romer and Verden.
"...Not a relic, but a guest. Then again, if a guest intends to trade, perhaps he counts as a relic too?"
The junk dealer, Reginalf, appeared.
***
A mustache adorned his upper lip, curly dark-brown hair fell over his forehead.
At face value, he looked in his forties, with a fairly sturdy build, nothing remarkable otherwise.
'No trace of divine power, no trace of prayer mana.'
Transcendent perception classified Reginalf as a normal citizen. Yet, for that very reason, he was confirmed to be no ordinary man.
He specialized in relics, things only wealthy nobles would covet, yet was known as a swindler who undercut prices. By all rights he should have made plenty of enemies…
And yet, here he stood, alive and well.
"Romer, you womanizer. This time you bring me a guest instead of a girl. How should I interpret this?"
"Interpret? A guest's a guest. Anyway, you know him. The Shinseong of the Eastern Continent. You've heard the name, right?"
"The Dragonslayer?"
Reginalf's eyes widened, snapping sideways. Verden pulled down his robe's hood, revealing his true face.
"As expected."
"...Seems it truly is you. The famed figure who slew the undead dragon comes seeking me. Hm, this place isn't suited for talk. Come inside."
They followed Reginalf through the heaps of clutter. Deep within, his dwelling opened into a chamber that matched his trade.
A fairly spacious cavern, ceiling about four meters high, filled wall to wall with relics. Some even bore price tags.
A small metal statue, etched with meaningless patterns, devoid of any magical effect.
1.4 billion Elk.
'Insane.'
From Verden's perspective, utterly absurd. A dubious statue priced over a billion Elk. Even Ignacia would raise her brows at such an appraisal.
In that instant, Verden understood why Legrit and Romer had despised this man.
"Does this sell?"
"Not in the ordinary sense. Few would ever value a forearm-sized statue that high. But in the end, if someone will buy, they buy."
Reginalf stroked his mustache.
"Whatever happens, it matters little. If it sells, I buy more relics with the money. If it doesn't, it stays here. Nothing lost."
"Sounds more like a collector than a junk dealer."
"What difference is there between the two?"
So, a job and a hobby both.
Either way, his fortune must be enormous to survive without selling, only buying. Otherwise, he would've starved and been buried long ago.
"Well, from the look of you, you didn't come to buy trinkets. What did you travel from the ownerless land to trade for?"
"There's an ancient relic I want you to find."
"An ancient relic?"
Verden summoned the femur of the Golden Relic Bone from subspace. Taking it, Reginalf immediately drew out a monocle and examined it closely.
It was the
"...'Skull, rib, femur. To the one who gathers the three Golden Relic Bones, the Golden Path shall open.' A legendary-style ancient relic."
"I have only two so far, this femur and the rib."
"So you want me to find the missing skull. This is my field, indeed… but the chances are low. If it's buried somewhere in the earth, there's no way to trace it."
"Still, I'll commission it."
Verden bore no lofty expectations for the relic. He'd merely invest, since he had two of three already. Even failure wouldn't disappoint him.
"Well, in that case…"
Reginalf rolled the golden bone in his hand, nodding.
At that moment, Romer stepped in.
"He came on my introduction, so don't even think of cheating him. If you try any tricks and he beats you bloody with a staff, I won't stop him. Seriously."
His way of paying for dinner.
All eyes turned, waiting to see how much this lunatic dealer—who priced a worthless statue at 1.4 billion Elk—would demand.
"I won't charge any money. Instead, as a condition for a free commission, until I find the Golden Skull, you will lend me one of the two Golden Relic Bones."
"And why is that?"
"Because this relic intrigues me greatly. Most stories bound to ancient relics are lies, but this one feels genuine. Worth studying. I swear, I won't damage it. I'd stake my neck."
No trace of ill intent, only honest curiosity.
And with just two bones, the relics were ornamental, useless otherwise. A fair condition, even economical.
'But trust alone isn't enough to entrust such a relic without cost.'
They had barely known each other an hour. Trust was meaningless.
"Who will guarantee that promise?"
"This Lone Wolf, Romer Hansnia, will guarantee it."
"Then I accept."
"???"
In an instant, Romer was declared guarantor, left blinking blankly.
What had just been said?
As he stood there, dumbfounded, Verden turned to leave.
"Send word to the city of Arein, north of the ownerless land. If I'm absent, Liam Arein will receive it."
"I'll remember."
"Then I'll see you next time, Romer."
Having finished his business, Verden vanished. His presence dissipated without a trace. Romer stared at the empty air and burst out.
"Old man, are you crazy? I never agreed! Why the hell am I the guarantor? Huh?"
"Fine, let's say I'm crazy. That makes you the guarantor."
"You damn swindler───"
Romer fumed noisily, but Reginalf paid him no mind. His focus was elsewhere.
His gaze, sunk deep, fixed on the golden femur in his hand.
"...Almost eight hundred years."
He whispered, barely audible, then exhaled long.
"Romer. Do you know what sin is?"
"What?"
"Sin isn't only breaking the law. At times, it's defined by oneself, not others. Those sins, unless cleansed by oneself, bind forever. Even beyond death."
...What was that supposed to mean?
Romer tilted his head, unable to understand.
"Hey, I asked, why the hell am I the guarantor!"
"Even when I give counsel, you don't listen. Hmph. It's late, leave for today. I'll hear your complaints tomorrow."
With a dismissal, Reginalf retreated deeper inside. Silence swallowed the chamber, leaving only his mutter.
"The Glory of the Dead stirs at last, gathering the body of the ancient king, and the Golden Relic Bones, lost in time, gather once more… no good omen, this."
His eyes lingered on the Golden Relic Bone.
"Perhaps the day we pay all our sins is not far off. Is it not so, Golden Sinner?"
The junk dealer, collector of ancient relics, Death's Sinner, smiled bitterly.